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You always look at me first when you make a joke, like my reaction is the one you’re actually waiting for. And of course I look up, meet your eyes, and there it is: that cheeky little smile you give me, before you turn away like nothing happened, but I can tell you’re smug that I noticed.

I wish I could tell you how much I love you. If things were different—if the world were kinder, I would never let you go.

You found me again in my dreams last night. You always do, even when you do not appear as a face, you arrive as a feeling.

There is something magnetic about you, like your very existence pulls at me. It isn’t shallow, and it isn’t ordinary desire. It’s deeper, heavier, almost spiritual, but yes, undeniably physical too. I am drawn to you in a way that feels both sacred and terrifying. Irresistible, unfairly captivating.

9:30 AM You were there again this morning, like you always are. You show up to that meeting every week, and part of me believes it's not just routine. Some quiet instinct between us. A silent loyalty neither of us names. You listened as we spoke about you leaving again, your patience thinning, the world pulling you elsewhere. I wanted to tell you that I would understand if you walked away. But the truth is selfish: I hope you don’t. You shared things with me you said you’ve t

You are a stranger I know too deeply. A presence I barely speak to, yet feel everywhere. We orbit one another quietly, politely, no real words, no shared life beyond brief moments in passing. And still, something in me aches for you in a way I cannot rationalize.